


Choose

by jasmineisland



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmineisland/pseuds/jasmineisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a Reverse Bang on lj<br/>Sam and Dean are taking on a hunt in the woods. Should be simple. Something silver will take care of. But nothing is simple when your name is Winchester, and they go from hunting to being hunted. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Choose

[ ](http://jasmineisland.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/381/6923)

Art Prompt Title: Choose  
Art link: <http://tigs-playground.livejournal.com/10140.html>  
Prompt Number: 3011  
Artist:[](http://tiggeratl1.livejournal.com/profile)[ **tiggeratl1**](http://tiggeratl1.livejournal.com/)  
Fic Title: The Test  
Author: [](http://jasmineisland.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://jasmineisland.livejournal.com/) **jasmineisland**  
Fandom/Genre: SPN Horror  
Pairing(s): None  
Word Count: 5009  
Warnings:None  
Summary: Sam and Dean are taking on a hunt in the woods. Should be simple. Something silver will take care of. But nothing is simple when your name is Winchester, and they go from hunting to being hunted. 

Beautiful artwork that I couldn't stop thinking about after I saw it. Thanks again to my unwitting beta [](http://spnlvr76.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spnlvr76.livejournal.com/)**spnlvr76** who listens patiently to my babbling and plot meandering.

 

The cold rain on his face woke Dean. His first coherent thought was _“I fucking hate rain”_ , then, before his brain was completely back online, he began to look around for Sam. The last thing he remembered was that look on Sam’s face. The familiar “Got it.” look he got when he figured out something big. Apparently, before he could share whatever it was he’d figured out, that something had gotten the drop on them.

Which left the million dollar question. Where. The. Fuck. Was. His. Brother?

It took longer than Dean liked, but he finally made it to his feet. Judging from the surrounding trees, he wasn’t far from where he and Sam had set up camp. He moved back to where the tattered remains of their backpacks were still sitting as if deserted. Still no Sam. A quick search told Dean what he already knew. Their weapons were gone as well.

The hell with careful. “SAM!” Dean’s voice echoed through the woods, but no answer. “SAMMY!”

The silence was terrifying. Rain was still falling, hard enough to send a soft hum to Dean’s ears, but not so hard he couldn’t see the trees around him. Yet. What he could see was  the fact that every piece of paper that Sam had meticulously stacked in his backpack was now scattered and all but shredded on the ground. There was a discoloration on some of the pieces that even after who knew how many hours in the rain Dean could still tell what it was. Blood. And since he wasn’t injured that only left one option. Sam.

“Maybe not, maybe Sammy got a few shots in.” Even to himself he voice sounded doubtful. The way whatever it was had gotten the drop on him the odds were it was his brother’s blood on the papers. And on various pieces of the other debris around him, now that he was looking for it. A rage guilt up in his gut and he turned slowly, scanned the area for any sign of a direction to go in. When his body began to tremble, Dean forced himself to stop. He wasn’t doing Sam any favors trying to go on like this. Closing his eyes, the hunter took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. _“Priorities. Get Sammy back. Kill what took him.”_ In the Winchester’s mind, that thought settled it. Whatever had taken his brother was dead. It just didn’t know it yet. If Sam was okay, the death would be swift. If not? He wasn’t Alistair’s star pupil for nothing. Just how much pain he inflicted first depended on how much pain his brother had endured when he was found.

With a single goal in mind, Dean traced the edge of their makeshift camp. They’d only planned to stop for an hour to regroup and grab something to eat. Which still begged the question what the fuck had happened. A string of deaths had captured Sam’s attention and they had headed out, convinced that they were either hunting a Werewolf or possibly a shifter. Over the half days’ drive and the few hour hike into the woods, Sam had systematically crossed off a few hundred other possibilities. Any of the remaining suspects could (and would) be killed by silver. The authorities had suspected a serial killer, of the human persuasion, of course. But there were certain consistencies that had convinced the younger Winchester that it was their kind of killer. Hearts missing, mutilation, and other certain tell-tale signs that had dragged the brothers into the woods.

So now, here Dean was. Alone, pissed, and desperately in need of one thing. Sam. Reaching into the pile of the destroyed gear, he reached for a water bottle. Finishing it, he turned and once again searched for a trail, but this time his breath was even, and his eyes were much sharper.

It wasn’t hard to spot now that he was focused on the search. Trees were pushed aside, as if someone carrying something large- little brother sized large- through. Moving closer, Dean looked at the ground. What he found shocked him. Footprints. Human foot prints. Not even large prints, meaning whoever was carrying Sam wasn’t even as tall as Dean. Two sets at that, struggling under the weight of a much larger man, from the looks of it. A voice in the back of Dean’s mind was now screaming “Human” over and over.

It wasn’t a werewolf, shifter, or any of the other things Sam had put together. But his little brother didn’t make mistakes like this. Which only meant one thing.

Before another thought could go through Dean’s mind the ground tilted and everything went black.

When Dean opened his eyes, he was literally choking on rain water running into his mouth. The sun was just coming up, which told Dean he’d been out for at least an hour.

“Son of a bitch.” Standing up, he fought a momentary disorientation. Everything came back to him and he stared at the remains of their equipment again. He realized how he and Sam had been caught unaware. The fucking water. The last thing he’d done before he blacked out again was finish the bottle of water. It all came together in his mind. This wasn’t a serial killer, this wasn’t a werewolf. This was a fucking set up. Someone very human had WANTED Dean and Sam on this so-called hunt. And had managed to drug their rations to make damn sure they’d be easy to handle. Not they.

Sam

The fact that he was still at the original site was proof to Dean that he was only there as collateral damage. The intended target had been his little brother. Fucking hunters. Had to be. No one else had any more than a vague idea the Winchesters even existed. No one else would know what signs to leave to make damn sure Sam picked up on it. Why didn’t these assholes get the message that the apocalypse was over and SAM had been the one to stop it? Jesus.

Moving back to the disrupted spot in the trees, Dean started to move. With at least a starting point, he trusted his instincts and followed where he believed Sam had gone.

He’d walked for another hour, the rain steadily dropping cold water on him that dripped down his neck and into his shirt. The sun should have been directly overhead, but he couldn’t tell for all the clouds that he could see through the tall trees. He checked his compass, but had it was no help. It could tell him North from South, but it couldn’t tell him what direction he’d find his brother. But he’d been Sam’s big brother for enough years to realize that when it came to the kid, his instincts were usually his best bet. Passing a large tree, he suddenly stopped. Something was off, and he knew it. It took him a minute too long, in his opinion, but he finally saw it. A chunk of bark was scraped off the tree. From the looks of it not too long ago. A chunk that wouldn’t stand out to anyone not looking for it, but meant everything to Dean. Sam was leaving his brother a trail.

Relief flooded through the older hunter. If Sam was leaving a trail, he was moving under his own power. Which meant he was alive and somewhat healthy. Scanning the ground, Dean tried to get a lead on his condition from any footprints, but the steady rain wasn’t helping. Or maybe it was. If Sam managed to escape whoever took him, he’d be trying to hide what direction he was headed.

With new purpose, Dean moved quickly in the direction his brother had led him.

The trail was easy for Dean to follow, and he felt more confident that he would find his brother with each sign. Silence was still the order, he had no idea who was pursuing Sam or where they were. He’d just passed the tenth mark and was moving at a quick pace when he heard a yell. A yell that he immediately recognized as Sammy. His tougher than nails brother, who had been receiving Winchester brand of home surgery since he was fourteen and would grit his teeth to the point of breaking before uttering a sound was now literally screaming in pain. Fuck silence, Sammy needed him. Now.

Running through the trees, keeping a trained eye out for the signs leading him, Dean silently willed his brother to hang in there until he got to him. As he neared what he believed to be the spot where the scream had come from, Dean slowed his steps.  For the first time he was grateful for the rain. It was hard enough now that his footsteps would be harder to detect.

“Son of a bitch.” Sam’s pained voice carried to Dean, and he tensed. Still not willing to give away his position until he knew what was happening, he moved closer.

Now Dean could hear what had to be Sam moving a short distance away from him. One more tree and he finally saw what he’d been searching for.

Sam was on the ground, moving his body back around a tree, his eyes scanning the area frantically. The second his eyes met Dean’s, even though his terror and pain were resonating in them, Dean heaved a sigh of relief. Sammy was alive, and anything else he could deal with. Quickly he moved to his brother and kneeled beside him. Unable to help himself, Dean reached out and gripped his brother’s shoulder. What surprised him was the way Sam turned and gripped his shirt with both hands. They were shaking and Dean put his other hand over them gently.

“I’m here, Sammy.”

“Thought you were dead.” Sam’s voice was a whisper, as was Dean’s, but a tremor accompanied it.

“What are we up against?” Before his emotion at finding his little brother could overwhelm him, Dean had to get the facts straight and get an escape plan into motion.

“No fucking clue, other than human. I fucked up, Dean. Son of a bitches are human.” Shaking his head, Sam unconsciously inched closer to his brother.

“You didn’t fuck up, Sammy. Whole hunt was a fucking set up from the get go. Drugged our god damned water.”

Sam didn’t appear as shocked as Dean was at this information. “I wondered how they got the drop on both of us like that. I woke up about five miles from here. Heard something coming, so I started moving. Whoever it is, they’re good. Almost silent, good tracker. Haven’t really gotten a good look- other than this.” He held up a large hunting knife. “Fucker threw it at me.”

The memory of the scream hit Dean. “Where are you hit?”

Moving slightly, Sam let his brother take a look at his left leg. A large gash in the back of it was tied off with a piece of what looked like Sam’s shirt and his belt. “Hurt like a bitch when it happened, but it’s not deep.”

Reaching out, Dean gripped the back of his little brother’s neck. “We’re getting out of here. But I need every detail you can give me about who’s after you.”

Before the younger man could answer, a voice broke the silence. “That’s not fair, Sam.”

Getting behind his brother, Dean reached down and gripped his chest and pulled. Together, they managed to get around the tree and hopefully out of the line of sight of the owner of the voice.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dean was tired, worried, and scared for Sam. That meant he was pissed off.

“Not you, Dean. This is between me and the chosen one.”

“Chosen?” Sam whispered. “Great. Fucking nutjob.”

“I keep telling ya, Sammy. You just attract the crazy. Sit tight.” Before Sam could object, Dean grabbed the knife and moved away from his brother before answering. “Chosen? So what exactly did you choose him for?”

The other voice had changed position as well. “Not by me. Sam knows he’s the one. How did you find him? Is he psychic as well? Does he still make use of the powers given to him? Will he heal himself again?”

Trying to get a line on where the voice was originating, Dean moved silently, hoping they would continue to give away their location.

“I’d heard the stories. That he was part demon, and he would lead the army. Gordon Walker seemed to have the entire plan-“

“Gordon Walker was a fuckin’ nutjob, and if you listened to him you’re just as many buckets of crazy.” Dean spoke before he stopped to think about giving away his own location.

“Gordon Walker was small minded. I’ll give you that. When I discovered that Sam had been returned from death and had still refused the title that was rightfully his I knew he was destined for more.” A second voice came from the other side of the tree where Dean had left Sam.

Desperate to draw them away from his brother, Dean moved before speaking again. “Do you hear yourself? He REFUSED. He didn’t lead the god damned demon army, we fucking killed Azazel, what other fucking test do you want to prove he’s not evil?”

“No, Dean. You misunderstand.” The sound that could only be a safety on a gun brought Dean face to face with an older man. “We know what happened. Sam was chosen- he was the bringer of Morning Star. Just like it was written in the Bible.”

“My brother put your precious Morning Star back in his fucking cage.” Said brother was right now trapped behind a tree and unable to run from these lunatics. Dean was desperate. “The apocalypse is over. Seems for all the other so called news you got, you missed the most important fucking memo.”

“We didn’t miss it.  Sam was chosen, by God or Lucifer to be the bringer- or the betrayer.”

Staring at the man, Dean had no idea what to say.  He didn’t have to, the second man finally spoke up, obviously coming closer to Sam.

“Angels, Demons, the Devil himself. Sam Winchester is the only one standing. Some say he stood before two archangels in hell itself. This test is for me. Am I truly worthy of being a hunter? How do I stand against a being who has cast aside Lucifer?”

“Give me a break.” Sam’s voice finally joined the group. “You want to hunt me BECAUSE I beat Lucifer?” He almost laughed. “Just when I think I’ve met the king of crazy, a new leader jumps up.”

“If I were truly hunting you, you would already be dead. We have your guns. I gave you a knife. This is NOT a hunt. This is a-“

“Test, yeah, we got that.” Dean faced the man holding the gun. “What does this make you?”

“A Witness. I brought your brother here to face my son to see if-“

“Your son? Nice to know. All the crazy in the same family tree. Makes my job easier.” Shaking his head, Dean looked around. His eyes caught the shaggy hair belonging to his brother, but he gave no indication he’d seen anything. Sam was leading the son in a circle around the two of them. Waiting for his brother to end it. “So you brought your son out here for some gold medal fight to the death with my brother.”

“Our family has a calling. We must know if my son can face the challenges this calling brings with it.”

Forcing himself to appear almost bored with what was happening, Dean smirked. “So we’re witnesses to this?”

“We are.”

“Hope you brought some beer. I like a cold one after a salt and burn, which is what we’re gonna to do your son when my brother’s done with him if you don’t call this off.”

“If that is my son’s fate, we were not meant to answer the calling.”

Suddenly the situation wasn’t funny. These people really believed that facing Sam would prove their worth. Which meant killing Sam, or die trying. As much as Dean was sure Sam could take the kid one on one, he wasn’t sure his little brother really had it in him to kill a human being. The cold blooded killings he’d been forced to remember his soulless body committing had really taken a toll on him. But he knew he couldn’t let on to that fact. “Look, everything you heard is true.”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice had an edge to it that told Dean he really didn’t want his brother to confirm what they suspected about him.

“They already know, Sammy. My brother DID take out Lucifer. And Michael, if you want the whole story. Locked them both up in that fucking cage for a permanent time-out.” He couldn’t help the twinge of pride in his voice. Damn straight his little brother had done that. “You know what he got for it? Dick. Slammed the door while he was still in there with them. Finally got out himself a while ago. So let’s go with this theory you have. What do you think is going to happen here? Your son, human, right? Your son is taking on a guy that took out two seriously pissed off arch angels. Do you see anyway you’re going to get a good ending here?” Without giving the man a chance to think, Dean continued. “And if by some stroke of sheer luck he manages to get the drop on my brother, what does he get? A pat on the back from Daddy? Because there’s nothing else coming his way for it! He gets to be a hunter! Congratulations! The most thankless job in the entire fucking world.” Knowing Sam was close, he raised his voice to give his brother some cover to move. “Pay is shit, no retirement, but that’s okay, you don’t need it because you’ll die young and bloody! So if having Daddy’s approval is worth dying for have at it you little shit!”

The man realized Dean was up to something, and he looked around. It happened the instant the gun wavered from the Winchester’s chest. Sam was so quiet it even surprised his brother when he put his arm around the throat of the man holding the gun. The hazel eyes held a cold look to them and actually stunned Dean. At the same time sharp knife struck and a large hand covered the mouth of his intended target. A look of surprise crossed the man’s face before he fell to the ground. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the Winchesters wouldn’t play by his ‘rules’.

Recovering from his shock quickly, Dean moved to help Sam lower the body quietly. The kid was pale, looking like he was about to throw up.

“You gonna be okay?” Keeping his voice down, he tried to make eye contact. But Sam stared down at the bleeding soon- to- be corpse.

“Had a gun on you.” The words were mumbled, and Dean knew his little brother was pretty fucking far from okay with this.

“Keep it together, Sammy. Let’s get out of here, okay?” A small nod was the only answer he got. Reaching down, Dean gathered the gun and quickly checked for others. “Just one. Great. After we take care of junior we’ll have to figure out where they stashed our shit.” He knew junior was out there, probably close. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

With the immediate danger to Dean over, it seemed that Sam’s leg had decided it had enough. Seeing it start to fold, Dean reached over and wrapped his brother’s long arm around his shoulders. “Move it, Sammy. Before Junior realizes you……” He let that thought trail off. The rain had finally tapered off, but it left both of them shivering from the cold. Although Dean was sure that not all of the younger man’s shaking was from being chilled. First order of business was to get him clear. Then come back for junior. “Let’s get you somewhere you can sit. I’ll take care of the little asshole.”

There was no answer, but Sam took a step and they moved quietly into the trees. Dean knew that tracking them moving like this was going to be way too easy, but there was nothing he could do. Letting Sam fall or leaving him wasn’t an option.  They hadn’t been moving more than five minutes when Sam’s name being literally bellowed through the trees told them junior was after them. Having a feeling that the rules of the game were a done deal, the older Winchester wondered if junior had a gun on him. Hoping it was no, but betting it was yes, he decided it was time to make a stand and get it over with.

Finding a spot that offered what he felt would be enough cover, Dean stopped moving.

“Dean? Nutjob? Shouldn’t we keep moving?”

“Nope. Done running. If he’s as good a tracker as you think, he’s not far behind us. We’ll never make it out of here before he catches up.”

“With me limping, you mean.”

“Did you hear what they said, Sammy? He’s not going to stop until one of you is dead. And since him killing you is not an option-“ Letting his sentence trail off, he knew the instant Sam realized his intentions.

“Part of me wants to tell you to not do this.” Sam’s voice was quiet. “I’ve been responsible for enough people dying.”

Sighing, Dean kept his voice low. “You. Are. Not. Responsible.”

Hazel eyes met his and Dean felt the second his brother gave in.

“I know he won’t stop, I know he picked this fight. I know all that, Dean. I just…..” He shook his head. “I’m tired of watching people around me die.”

“And I’m tired of watching you die.” When their eyes met this time, Dean’s eyes showed determination and Sam’s showed acceptance. “This ends. Now.”

Nodding, the younger Winchester looked around. “What’s the plan?”

Before Dean could answer, a sound drew both of their attention. He stepped in front of his brother and pulled the gun.

An arrow came out of nowhere and landed to the side of them in a tree. “That was a warning shot, Dean. Step away from him. This is between me and him.”

“Fuck you.” Dean tried to track the path of the arrow, but suddenly Sam grabbed him and shoved him to the side. Another arrow passed through the space where the smaller man had been standing, but he wasn’t there. The arrow took a chunk of Sam’s side with it before it also embedded in the tree. With a hiss of pain, Sam fell back onto his bad leg. From behind him, Dean couldn’t keep his brother from hitting the ground. Gripping his jacket, Dean pulled while still scanning for the would-be killer. Scooting back, helping as much as he could, Sam moved back to the side of the tree the arrows were still embedded in.

“Not going to work, Sam.” The voice was close, but Dean still couldn’t see him. “This is where it ends. You or me. Dean if you don’t move away from him the next arrow will go right through him.”

“Why do you want to have this death match with me?”

“Because I have to prove that I am good enough.”

“You want to prove you’re good, you take on a fucking Wendigo. You don’t hunt another hunter.” Dean tracked the sound, but wasn’t sure enough to just fire. If he missed, the asshole would have time to send another arrow in Sam’s direction.

“Sam’s not just another hunter. We’ve already discussed this.”

“You’re father tried to hand me that line. Guess you figured out how that ended.”

“I won’t forget you killed him.”

“No, actually he didn’t.” Sam’s voice carried over just as the brother’s eyes met. They knew where he was. “I did.”

Sam’s statement enraged him, just as the injured hunter had hoped. When he moved through the bushes with a poleaxe raised, that was it. The movement that gave him away. A black piece of fabric and the glint of metal was all Dean needed. One shot and it was over. The big brother in him had a moment of panic that he’d been a second too slow, and Sammy might have paid a price. But one quick glance told him that Sam was fine. Okay, not fine, but no more injured then he was three minutes ago.

After making sure the deluded son of a bitch was dead, the older hunter turned to Sam. His head was turned, eyes downcast. Knowing it had to be done didn’t make it any easier for him to watch. Lifting the bow and a poleax, Dean moved to where his little brother was still sitting.

“I need to figure out where they were camped. Get our shit back. Where are you hurt?”

“My leg, my side where the arrow got me. Think I hit my head somewhere, but not bad.”

For the first time since finding him, Dean allowed himself the time to actually give his brother a once-over. What had looked like rain-slick holding the long hair plastered to Sam’s head was actually blood. Further inspection showed a long cut in the scalp.

“Got a pretty good cut, there.” A thought struck him. “Probably where all  the blood at the campsite came from. Might have cut it when you fell over after drinking the  water.”

Agreeing, Sam nodded.

“Christ. I saw the blood and thought-“ Unable to actually say what he thought, Dean looked away.

“I’m fine, Dean. Right here.” As usual, his brother could read his mind.

“You need to stop this fucking Houdini shit, Sammy. Gonna make me old before my time.”

“Nah, that takes a warlock.”

Reflex made Dean’s hand reach out and smack the younger man upside his head. When Sam winced, he remembered the cut. “Oops.”

“Jerk.”

“Come on, bitch.” Offering his hand, Dean pulled Sam to his feet. “With this rain, can’t patch you up. Let’s find our shit, take care of……” Voice trailing off for a moment, he saw the understanding in the hazel eyes. “Gotta be done.”

“I know. Christ, last thing we need is our own fucking vengeful spirit trying to take a piece of our asses.”

Knowing that his brother was trying to convince himself, Dean reached up and grabbed him gently by the back of his neck. “You take weapon duty. I’ll take the garbage.”

They moved silently, Dean dragging more then carrying one corpse back to the other. While they burned, he made sure they were downwind. The rain finally stopped, but everything was so wet it took a while to be sure it was done.

“Not much left of our stuff.” Dean tucked his gun in the back of his jeans, wincing at the wet material sticking to his body in all kinds of uncomfortable places.

“Didn’t bring much anyway.” He shrugged, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it. Gonna loose a layer of skin when I peel these wet jeans off my balls.”

Grateful for the effort, Dean laughed. “Read my mind, dude. But at least then we’ll know you actually have a pair.”

A second of levity was all Sam had the energy for. “They had to come in by car, I say we go back to the Impala, and drive the outskirts of the park until we find it.”

“Dry clothes.” Without the threat of death, his mind was free to focus on stupid shit. “You think anyone would notice two guys stripping in the parking lot?”

His brother sighed and gathered his energy. “If they do you can charge triple.”

“That’s my boy. Always plotting.”

“Seems our lives kind of depend on it at least once a day.”

That stopped Dean. The fact that Sam was always plotting was the only reason he was walking, limping actually, beside him. Turning, he put a hand out to the muscled chest to stop him. “You did, you know. Out plotted him every step of the way. Glad you’re smart that way.”

“You ever stop thinking ‘why’? I mean, god damn hunters’ve been after me for years. First because Azazel wanted to hand me an army. Then because Lucifer wanted me to torch the world, now because I stopped Lucifer from using me to torch the world. Christ. Just want to tell them to go pick on some other asshole, ‘cause I’ve had enough.”

“Can’t do that, Sammy. That other asshole’d probably be me, and you’d still be stuck here with an arrow in your side and blood messing up that pretty hair.” Actually, Dean would prefer it if they would go after the other asshole, meaning him, and Sam knew that. But he’d argue the point until Dean tied him down and gagged him to shut him up if that was said. “Besides, I have enough assholes after me.”

“Husbands and biker boyfriends don’t count, Dean. Kicking their asses can be fun.”

“What? You admitting that one or two of the few…… altercations we’ve gotten into have been fun?”

“Few?” Now Sam laughed. He’d been so strung out for so long on adrenaline and fear that once he let anything out he couldn’t stop.

For a moment, Dean wondered if his brother had actually lost it. But the harder Sam laughed, the more Dean wanted to join in. Watching his brother hold the arrow injury, since laughing this hard obviously made it hurt like a bitch, he realized they were okay. When those long legs had finally had enough and the injured one buckled, Dean reached out and grabbed his brother by the waist. “Come on, Sasquatch.” He grinned. “Few miles to go.”

“Fuck.”

“You said it, dude.”

  



End file.
